Of Healers and Heartthrobs
by darnedchild
Summary: A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week - Day Two (In My Wildest Dreams) (It's AU day and that means Potter!Lock!)


**Of Healers and Heartthrobs**

"Stop making Mooncalf eyes at the man and just talk to him already."

Molly immediately whipped her head around to stare at her mentor in horror. She'd been discretely—or so she'd thought—watching the new Potions Master wind his way through the Great Hall toward the Head Table. "I wasn't making eyes of any kind, I was merely . . ."

Poppy Pomfrey chuckled and made a point of looking the man in question over. "I may be old enough to retire at the end of the school year, my dear, but I'm not dead. I can already predict the lovesick fawning he'll be subjected to from the students. I saw it last year when Neville Longbottom took over for Pomona Sprout. That arse of his is a thing of beauty, and utterly wasted on a professor here at Hogwarts."

"Madam Pomfrey!" Molly exclaimed, thoroughly scandalized.

"Really, my dear," the matron huffed. "How many times have I told you to call me Poppy?"

Molly was saved from answering by the arrival of the Potions Master at the Head Table. He stopped just behind the chairs of the two mediwitches and gave them both a sharp nod. "Madam Pomfrey, Healer Hooper."

Somehow Molly got the impression that he knew exactly what they'd been discussing earlier. She blushed and stuttered a quick hello.

Her mentor had no such shyness. "Professor Holmes. If you wouldn't mind stopping by the Hospital Wing this evening, we've made a list of potions needed to round out our stores."

"Of course." With one last piercing look, he continued down the table to the vacant chair next to Professor Longbottom.

Molly waited until he was out of earshot to hiss out of the corner of her mouth, "What list? We haven't got a list."

Poppy waved her fork dismissively. "We'll come up with something."

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The Hospital Wing was blessedly quiet a month into the fall term. Poppy and Molly were taking advantage of the empty beds to freshen the linens when Professor Holmes burst through the doors urging a purple-spotted student ahead of him.

Poppy immediately set to work, ushering the sniffling child toward the far end of the infirmary and behind a set of curtains.

"Too many blowfly wings in a Scintillation Solution brew?" Molly guessed.

"Yes." He looked pleasantly surprised. "Five points to . . . Hufflepuff?"

Molly nodded. Of course he'd figured out what House she'd belonged to. She finished stripping the bed she'd been working on, then turned to find him standing almost directly behind her. "Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey will have him set to rights before lunch, I wager."

"Of that I have no doubt," he agreed. His head titled to the side and she felt as if he were studying her, as if trying to figure something out. "Why do you insist on calling her that? Using her full title. I know that she's asked you to call her by her given name. She's asked all the new staff."

In fact Molly had been addressing her mentor as Poppy for the last several weeks, but the professor tended to make her uncomfortably flustered and she'd reverted to an old habit. She scrambled to come up with an excuse that didn't make her sound like an idiot. "I believe it's best to retain a sense of formality . . . especially in front of the students."

Professor Holmes pointedly looked toward the curtained partition behind which the injured student was being treated. Far out of hearing range.

Molly blushed and mentally kicked herself.

"That's a pity."

She pursed her lips and tried not to give in to her curiosity. She failed. "It is?"

"Hmm." He turned to walk away, then paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "I had hoped to convince you to call me Sherlock."

Molly watched him disappear through the infirmary doors as a small, bemused smile bloomed on her lips.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The castle was nearly empty. Only a handful of students and faculty remained over the Christmas holiday. As her mother had chosen to take a cruise to Majorca rather than celebrate the holiday at home, Molly volunteered to keep watch over the Hospital Wing in Poppy's stead.

Short of administering Pepperup Potion to a pair of Gryffindors who had spent far too long playing in the snow in the main courtyard, there really hadn't been much to do.

She'd just finished the evening inspection of the infirmary to make sure nothing was out of place and no mischievous students were lurking about when a piece of parchment appeared out of thin air and fluttered to the floor at her feet.

Her rational mind told her House-Elf, but her heart jumped nonetheless. She shook off her unease and reached for the missive. The parchment was high quality, and the ink an expensive, almost iridescent blend of darkest blue. She'd seen the combination once or twice in notes written to Poppy from the castle's Potions Master.

It was an invitation to share supper with Sherlock in his quarters down in the dungeons, ostensibly to go over any potions or draughts that would need to be brewed for the upcoming term.

Molly knew he and Poppy had already done so before the break. She'd helped Poppy inventory the stores and make the list, so why would he ask her to . . .

Oh.

OH.

She touched her fingers to her lips to hide her wide grin.

If she hurried there would be just enough time to stop by her rooms to change out of her uniform and brush out her hair. Perhaps put on a bit of makeup.

Molly locked up the infirmary and practically skipped to her rooms. She couldn't remember when she'd looked forward to a meal more.


End file.
